


glaciokinesis

by listlessness



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, First Time, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Woman Receiving Anal Sex, fuck to stay warm, having to stay quiet, quasi-accidental voyeurism, scottish bothys, sex snow pollen, the doctor is a bit of a perv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23664241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/listlessness/pseuds/listlessness
Summary: A freak snow storm (that the Doctor promised she knew nothing about) leave Yaz and the Doctor staying overnight in a rundown bothy.The snow, apparently, is sentient.Yaz just wants to stay warm.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	glaciokinesis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheseusInTheMaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/gifts).



> This is for [Theseusinthemaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/) as part of the [smut4smut 2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/smut4smut2020) exchange.
> 
> Sex pollen is, in my books, a wonderful trope. But so is snow and I love snow. So let's combine the two.

Gritting her teeth, Yaz stared stoically ahead and shoved her hands a little higher under her armpits. Her feet stomped on the ground below, clearing the ice and snow from her boots, though it would ultimately be for nought. The ground was covered in it, and all she was doing was prolonging the inevitable. 

In the Doctor's defence, she _had_ told Yaz that the nights on this particular planet could get cold. She'd also told Yaz that this planet was prone to sudden and wild changes in the weather, so she ought to dress appropriately. 

She'd also told Yaz, with all the confidence and sincerity that Yaz had come to love and trust about her, that it was the middle of summer and she'd be fine, just _fine_ , to head out in jeans and a light cardigan. 

Now Yaz was standing out the front of a run-down building, bouncing her knees repeatedly as she watched the light scattering of snow begin to waft down. The Doctor had prattled on about shifting tide streams and wind currents and the introduction of steam-powered carriages, but Yaz had switched off after she'd fallen into the third snow drift. 

It wasn't the Doctor's fault. Not really. But damn, Yaz was going to pretend it was until they got somewhere warm and safe. The TARDIS was a good several miles south of where they had found themselves, and despite the Doctor's cocksure blustering, neither of them were quite ready to hike back there in this weather. 

They had split up in an effort to find somewhere to shelter for the evening. Yaz hadn't found anything except for a flock of curious and thick-haired cows with six legs. This village wasn't even a village, but a stopping point between two tiny hamlets. Naming it a homestead might be generous. 

So far Yaz hadn't seen any other living creature for miles except for the cows. They had been curious and had nuzzled at her hands, their heads knocking against her two legs. Yaz had petted them and muttered to herself that she was insisting on a tropical planet next time. 

The door swung open. The Doctor came tripping out, calling her thanks to whoever remained inside. Yaz looked up hopefully, wondering if she looked as miserable as she felt. In her arms, the Doctor held a bundle of what appeared to be blankets and coats. 

'There's a bothy a couple minutes up that way,' the Doctor said, nodding towards the forest. 'We'll be safe there 'til the snow settles.' 

'A bothy?' Yaz said, mildly incredulous. 'You expect us to stay the night in a bothy? In this weather?' 

The Doctor shrugged. 'Might be a bothy. Could be a but and ben.' 

'Why can't we stay here?' Yaz asked, nodding towards the building the Doctor had come from. 

It looked like an awfully rundown cottage, but it was immediately in front of them, unlike a traipse through a forest. 

'What's wrong with a bothy?' the Doctor asked, already starting off. 'It's an adventure. I once lived in a bothy. Well, it was more of a cleit.' 

'But why can't we stay here?' Yaz repeated, even though she knew it wasn't going to happen. 

'His kids are comin' in for the night. Would get a bit crowded.' 

'Kids? What kids?' 

She didn't get a response. The Doctor was continuing up the dirt-and-sleet road, the snow already beginning to get the cuffs of her trousers wet. Yaz was left to scurry up behind her, catching the end of the Doctor's muttering conversation. 

'It wasn't even really a cleit. More of a shieling. Cleits are only found on St Kilda. Didja know that, Yaz?' 

Yaz just shook her head as she let the Doctor continue on about the etymology behind the word _Kilda_ and how an ancient alien dialect had accidentally slipped into Norse and Gaelic terminology. 

* 

The bothy turned out to be just as Yaz had expected it to be, and nothing like it at all. On the fifteen-minute hike up the forest-covered hill, the snow and sleet starting to come down heavier until a chill had entered Yaz's bones, she had pictured some sort of rundown lean-to where she and the Doctor would freeze to death. Likewise, she had pictured some kind of shabby, but ultimately cared for, stone cottage that would provide them shelter from the storm outside, which would in turn lead to their sharing of romantic feelings that would reach a crescendo just as lightning and thunder clapped. And, of course in her fantasy world, there would only be one bed. 

It was a mix of both. It was definitely run down, and the wooden door had a firm crack running through it that should have been patched a long time ago. The stonework was standing strong, however, and aside from a leak in a corner, it was dry and safe from mildew. 

There wasn't only one bed, though. 

In fact, there weren't any beds. 

Or, plainly, there wasn't any furniture to speak of, bar a singular, four-legged object that was somewhere between a very small table and a very short stool. There also seemed to be some kind of heater, which she crouched in front of and began to poke at. 

The Doctor, upon entering the single-room building, dug into the pile of blankets and bedding that had been leant to her and placed a hamper of bread, cheese and a bottle of water on the mystery furniture. From there, she walked to the back of the bothy, which was elevated and off the ground, and lay the bedding down. 

'It's not much, but we'll be safe for the night. We'll be protected from the wolves.' 

'Wolves?' Yaz asked, looking back at the door. 'There's wolves out there?' 

'Of course. Every planet's got wolves.' 

A small noise of understanding came from Yaz as she nodded and took several steps towards the Doctor. She'd make sure to block the door with the stool-table when they finally went to sleep. 

'His name's Craig. The farmer. Isn't it funny how you lot keep certain names over the years? The year thirty-five thousand and there's still a Craig. Certain names always keep popping up. Craig. Amy. Tiffany. John. Preamble.' 

'Preamble's not a name, I don't think.' 

'Not yet.' 

Yaz had long learnt to let the Doctor go on her typically one-sided lengthy conversations, and she honestly didn't mind. It was fascinating to witness how the Doctor jumped from one topic to the next with a vigour and vivaciousness that Yaz had never encountered in anyone else. She never felt left out of the conversation, either, like she did occasionally with other similarly-minded individuals. The Doctor would always look over and wait for Yaz's acknowledgement before she continued, grinning and gesticulating at having an interested audience. 

Dinner was simple and more for Yaz's benefit than the Doctor's. The loaf of bread was somewhat dense and sweet, as though it had been made with molasses, while the cheese had a nutty flavour to it. The Doctor tore the loaf in half and gave Yaz the slightly bigger portion, even though she couldn't even begin to finish it. 

They sat cross-legged on the ground, the wind beginning to pick up outside. The Doctor had dug out an impressive flashlight from one of her pockets (which Yaz had long accepted as being like mini-TARDISes) and it cast a yellow glow throughout the space between them. 

A whistle echoed around the building, no doubt created by either the crack in the door or the gap in the wall where the damp started. The Doctor had turned the heater on, and though they couldn't leave it running all night (on account of it being as old as the bothy and likely to cause damage), they could leave it on long enough for their clothes to dry. 

It was easy for Yaz to keep her crush at bay. She was an adult, a police officer, a time traveller. She wasn't some blushing pink-cheeked school girl. 

But then it would just be her and the Doctor, on some adventure like this, stuck in some rundown bothy in the middle of a strange planet, sharing a meal and it was impossible to ignore. 

The way the Doctor leant closer as she talked. 

How she'd tilt her head back and laugh, whole-heartedly and with great delight. 

The occasional touch of her hand on Yaz's knee. 

A fire burned inside Yaz, as bright and hot as the heater. The Doctor had taken off her coat and her white shirt sleeves had been pushed up. Her boots had been peeled off and her socks draped over the toes, allowing the Doctor's bare feet to kick about on the dusty floor. 

Yaz's heart ached. Her fingers dug into the bread as she chewed on a mouthful, her eyes locked on the space between them. She knew it was unlikely the Doctor would ever notice, let alone reciprocate. Ryan had said as much when he and Graham had bid their final farewells. But, somehow, ridiculously, Yaz continued to hold out hope. 

* 

The storm had picked outside after two hours. The slurry had turned into a thick, heavy blanket of snowfall had begun to take over the ground outside. There was no thunder or lightning, but the wind had begun to create a racket against the eastern wall. 

Although Yaz's clothes had mostly dried, they clung to her uncomfortably. She had removed the cardigan not long after she had finished eating, but she'd been more reluctant to shuck her jeans. 

The Doctor, blasé as ever, had removed her trousers some time ago, but she wore a pair of boxer shorts that had likely belonged to a previous, more masculine, body. She stood in the corner where the whistling was most prominent, her hands on her hips and head turned up as she tried to decide how to fix the noise. The flashlight stood on the ground beside her, casting a long shadow up the wall. 

'I'm going to go to sleep,' Yaz finally said, her hands on the waistband of her jeans. 

'Don't let me keep you up,' the Doctor said, waving a hand. She didn't turn back. 

Yaz waited. Then, when it became clear the Doctor wasn't coming over to the nest of blankets that made up the bed, she sighed and turned away herself. 

Her jeans were removed and set aside. Running a hand along the elasticated waist of her cotton briefs, she nestled out a soft spot on the blankets and lay down. 

The Doctor probably wouldn't even come to bed. Yaz wasn't even sure she ever needed to sleep. 

* 

It was at some point in the very early hours of the morning when Yaz woke to the feeling of the blankets being pulled back. At least she guessed it was the early hours of the morning. She still couldn't quite tell the difference in space time over Earth time, and as much as she tried to break the idea of what was and wasn't Earth time, she could never quite shake it. The need to know what time it was happened to be innately human. 

The storm was still going on outside. It had actually grown louder, though the whistling had lessened. 

Pushing up on an elbow, Yaz blinked about in the bleary dark. The flashlight had been turned off, and all she could see was an eerie blue tinge from the night sky outside. The Doctor had explained at some point about the bioluminescence of the snow at some point, but Yaz had been too busy not slipping on the wet rocks. She half-wished she could remember what had been said precisely, but her mind was full of sleep. 

'It's alive,' the Doctor whispered suddenly in her ear. 

Yaz would have jolted, if she still wasn't half asleep. 'Huh?' 

'The snow. Well, part of the snow. Some of the crystals. They're alive.' 

'Is that bad?' Yaz mumbled. 

'Nah. I don't think so. But I asked 'em to patch up the hole in the stonework, which they're doing now. That's what the whistling was.' 

'Huh.' 

The Doctor had slipped in under the blankets behind her. Yaz, too tired to remain up on her elbow, settled back down. The bundle of blankets that she'd been using as a pillow had spread out, and it wasn't until she began to try to haphazardly mould them back into some kind of mound that she realised her feet were pressed against the Doctor's bare legs. 

'Bit cold, isn't it?' 

'Huh?' Yaz's brain was still several beats behind. Her mouth was even slower at the whole waking up thing. 

'Are you cold? You feel cold. Wait here.' 

The blankets were tossed off again. Yaz, burrowing her face into the crook of her elbow, listened as the Doctor's bare feet stomped away from the nest of blankets and then promptly returned. As Yaz lifted her head to ask what was happening, something was draped gently over her. 

It was the Doctor's coat. It smelt sweet, like the lingering trace of custard creams that always seemed to waft around the Doctor. Metallic, from working deep within the guts of the TARDIS. A little sharp and cold, from where she'd been no doubt talking to snow for several hours. Musky, in that way all live mammals seemed to share. 

'Better?' 

'Mm-hmm.' 

'Here, c'mere, you're _freezing_.' 

'You're the one with cold hands.' 

Yaz wasn't protesting all that much, though. The Doctor had slipped back in under the blankets, however few there were, and had wrapped an arm around Yaz's middle. Her breasts pressed against Yaz's back, her mouth puffing warm air on the back of Yaz's neck. In different circumstances, Yaz would have called this pleasant. 

Actually, no. Even in these circumstances- cold, in a rundown bothy, in the middle of the night- this was decidedly very pleasant. 

'S'nice,' Yaz slurred, smiling despite herself as she nuzzled into the uncomfortable mound of would-be pillow under her head. She could still smell the Doctor's coat, combining with the complete and utter presence of the Doctor squirming closer to her. 

'Maybe if there's still snow outside tomorrow morning, we can try talking to 'em together.' 

'Won't they be melted?' 

'Huh?' 

'The snow. If... if it gets warm. Won't they be melted and be... gone?' 

Yaz was waking up, slowly, inch by inch, bit by bit. The Doctor had pressed her face right behind her ear. The tip of her nose was cold and ever so slightly damp. 

'Oh. Oh, I dunno. I didn't think of that. Bit of a short lifespan, huh? Maybe they evaporate or- or live in the stones. I guess I can ask tomorrow. You're smart, Yaz. You know that, yeah? You're smart. For a human. I mean, all humans are smart, but you're pretty clever yourself. I'm so glad you're here with me. Jus' you an' me, out here in the middle of the snow.' 

As the Doctor spoke, Yaz began to roll backwards, settling down so she could squint up at her in the middle of the hazy deep blue light. Her eyes still felt heavy with sleep, and there was that odd tackiness in her mouth that always happened when it was cold and she'd fallen asleep without her usual gulp of water beforehand (something Sonya had always ridiculed her over). 

'You're, um. You're talking a lot,' Yaz finally managed to get out. 

Fantastic. Utterly eloquent. Just what would get the Doctor to reciprocate her feelings. 

'Yeah, me an' the snow did quite a bit of talking.' 

'The snow have a lot to say, huh?' 

'Oh yeah, they have a really interesting look on the universe. And they don't get to share it with a lot of people, being on account of they're, you know, snow and all. But they said I should just go and get it over with.' 

'Get what over with?' 

Yaz's eyes had begun to close again of their own accord, no matter how much her brain had started to wake up. Her lips, parted and soft as her breathing threatened to even out again, were suddenly pressed against something soft and warm. 

Lips. Not just her lips. The Doctor's lips. 

If Yaz were any more awake, she would have maybe asked just what the snow and the Doctor had been discussing. But she was still half-asleep and she was cold and the Doctor was still, somehow, holding her close, and she was being _kissed_ , kissed by the Doctor, and held and awkwardly pawed at as the Doctor pressed up against her. 

The Doctor was suddenly pulling away, her head lifting. Yaz's cheeks were tickled by the brush of hair as the Doctor turned to look over her shoulder. The snow had picked up. 

'Oh. I think they're listening.' 

'The snow?' 

'Yeah.' 

'… Huh.' 

That would be a concept Yaz would have to tackle in the morning. 

The Doctor had kissed her. 

The _Doctor_ had _kissed_ her. 

Reaching up, Yaz found a fistful of the Doctor's hair. When she'd dared to imagine this, in her most secret moments, it had been a little more gentle, a lot slower. No in the middle of an alien night, in the middle of a sentient snowstorm, laying in a pile of dusty blankets. Yaz would take what was offered, though. 

She pulled the Doctor down and kissed her again, her nails scratching across the back of her head. 

The Doctor had gone still. Yaz only had half a moment to wonder if perhaps she'd badly, seriously, terrible miscalculated what she had done when the Doctor was kissing her back. Open-mouthed, needy, balancing precariously on one hand as her other hand fumbled under the blanket and groped messily under Yaz's shirt. 

'Oi!' she yelped as the Doctor lifted her head. 'Bit forward, aren't ya?' 

She didn't mind. Not really. Not at all. Maybe the Doctor had noticed that. 

'Alien. I don't really get human boundaries.' 

Yaz swallowed a laugh. The Doctor's fingers were tapping along the cup of her bra, right where it met her breast. Snorting a little as she finally shook off the last dregs of sleep, she squirmed as the Doctor leant over and pressed her still-cold, still-damp nose against Yaz's. 

'But I do get snow boundaries, and you might want to be a little quieter unless you want 'em listening in.' 

' _Snow_ boundaries?' Yaz queried. Even so, she found herself whispering as she bit back another laugh. 

The Doctor turned out to be, at Yaz's complete and utter lack of surprise, a particularly handsy individual. Her mouth kissed Yaz's own, as well as her cheeks and chin, her jaw and ears, while her hands kept sliding under her shirt to fumble at her bra. Although Yaz tried to offer to help her get it off (as well as her t-shirt, which was quickly growing tight and shoved up around her armpits), the Doctor didn't seem all that bothered by it. At one point her bra was unclasped, but it remained trapped underneath her, the hook closures digging into her skin. 

'I can- you know, I can just take it- ' 

' _Shh_!' The Doctor hissed. 'The snow is watching.' 

'I don't- I really don't care.' 

'Maybe the snow does. It might be rude, for them to hear.' 

'We could stop.' 

The Doctor screwed up her nose. Yaz could barely see it, in the hazy glow of the possibly-sentient snow outside. In the momentary quiet between them, Yaz could feel the faint swell of heat, the sound of her own pulse pounding in her ears. 

The blankets were thrown up around them. The Doctor squirmed underneath, pouring a blanket and part of her coat over them. 

'We just gotta be _quiet_.' 

Yaz wasn't too sure how successful she could be with that, but she wasn't about to argue. She agreed breathlessly, her mouth pressed against something that might have been the Doctor's mouth or cheek or throat or shoulder. 

The Doctor's fingertips were freezing, like she'd been sticking them in the snow. Maybe she had. But they were all over Yaz, running over her breasts and pulling down her bra as far as she could with her shirt still on. Her mouth found Yaz's again, the kiss of her cold nose upon her cheek. 

'Doctor- ' 

Somehow, under the pile of blankets and the Doctor's coat, Yaz had managed to hook a leg around the Doctor's hip. Her heel pressed into the curve of her ass, where her cotton boxer shorts had been hiked up a little. Shifting slightly, Yaz pulled the Doctor in closer, until she could grind down upon her thigh. She had a sudden embarrassed pang as she wished she'd worn something a little more appealing and adult than her polka-dotted yellow-and-pink cotton briefs. 

Next time. 

Well, if the Doctor wanted a next time. Maybe she was thinking too far ahead. 

One of the Doctor's hands groped at her breast, another on her waist. Squirming beneath the Doctor, Yaz let her head tip back a little against the hard floor. Her own fingers were still lost in the Doctor's hair, her teeth worrying her lower lip as the Doctor began to kiss her way down. Lips against the hollow of her throat, across her shirt, between her breasts where fabric still covered her skin. The Doctor had asked her to remain quiet on account of the snow (which still didn't make sense to Yaz), but she wasn't sure how successful she would be about that. 

'Yaz?' 

Yaz didn't immediately respond. The Doctor had managed to shift her leg up a little, to where it pressed against her cunt. With a distracted huff, Yaz squirmed a little. She was wet, and she was rutting against the Doctor, and despite how rundown this damn bothy was, she was sure that this wouldn't have happened in Craig's house (and why, _why_ , why did Craig of all names still exist in this pocket of the universe?). 

'Yaz?' the Doctor repeated, just loud enough to break her out of her stupor. 

'Hm?' 

All Yaz got was a small laugh. There was a kiss upon her nose and then the Doctor was wiggling down. Further under the blankets, tossing them higher above Yaz's head. 

Fingers hooked around the side of her briefs. With a faintly dawning realisation, as though she were running several seconds behind the Doctor (a feeling that was all too familiar, really), Yaz realised her briefs were being pulled down. She definitely should have worn something a little sexier, a little more adult. She probably should have also shaved, or at least trimmed a little. Maybe waxed her legs, even. 

The Doctor didn't seem to mind, though. Quite the opposite. Before Yaz could even take a breath, she felt the brush of the Doctor's soft hair between her thighs, the tip of her cold nose, and then her tongue, hot and wet and _there_ , against her cunt, licking a line clean across her slit. It was unexpected and wonderful, and there was definitely no way Yaz could be quiet when _that_ was happening. 

Of course the Doctor was going to use her mouth. She used it everywhere. She was always shoving things in it that she shouldn't, she was always licking and tasting things, of course, of _course_ , she would be using it now. 

Her tongue pressed in deep. With a low, almost guttural moan, Yaz rocked her hips up towards the Doctor. A pair of hands grabbed at her hips, holding her off the ground as the Doctor ran her tongue up, towards her clit. 

Yaz didn't know what to do. Her hands grabbed mindlessly at the Doctor's hair, holding her in close, then at her shoulders, before dropping to the ground and scrabbling at the blankets and the partly exposed wooden floor underneath. One of her feet slipped over the ground, while the other, still somehow hooked around the Doctor's back, wiggled helplessly. 

'Doc- ' 

'Hold still.' 

'Doctor- ' 

'Shh! I'm _busy_. The snow'll hear.' 

Yaz still wasn't sure how sentient snow crystals were a thing, but she wasn't about to argue when the Doctor had her head between her legs. Shoving a hand over her mouth, she writhed helplessly, moaning into her fist. The Doctor's tongue continued to swipe over her, the very tip of her cold nose pressing against her clit. Her heel dragged down the Doctor's back, pressing into her shoulder blade, her spine, the back of her ribs until one of the hands on her hips began to push at her. 

'Roll over.' 

'What?' 

Despite her unanswered question, Yaz didn't argue. Squirming about, trying to swing her leg over without knocking the Doctor, she flopped onto her stomach. At least in the dark, under the blankets, the Doctor wouldn't be able to see her inelegance. 

Unless she could. Being able to see in the dark did seem like a skill the Doctor would have. 

Folding her hands underneath her face, Yaz had just enough time to take a breath to settle herself. She knew she ought to be offering to reciprocate, but she wasn't even sure how to start that. 

Her hips were grabbed again. Her briefs were stuck somewhere around her knees, tangled about in the mess of limbs and fabric. One of her feet had managed to get hooked over the Doctor's calf, and she wiggled her toes. She was rewarded with something that might have been a laugh, before she felt the Doctor's tongue back against her. 

'Warning!' Yaz yelped, but without any real heat or frustration. 

Her brow pressed into the floor, her mouth falling open. The Doctor's nails dragged over her hips, across her asscheeks, towards the dip in her spine and then back down again. A pair of fingers drifted down, towards her cunt where they slipped inside as the Doctor's teeth grazed against the back of her thigh. 

'I should've said something before, huh? I mean, I've seen you looking. I'm not completely unobservant.' 

'I never thought you weren't. Just... just not good with people.' 

Was the Doctor trying to have a conversation now? That felt wrong. Yaz was already struggling to have a cohesive thought, on account of her having had her sleep broken. Trying to have a full conversation now, while the Doctor's tongue was inside her cunt alongside a pair of fingers felt downright cruel. 

'I'm not. Not good with people, that is. I'm getting better, though, aren't I? See, we're having a conversation now!' 

'The- the snow really, uh. Really gave you some good therapy, huh?' 

'You could say that.' 

The fingers inside Yaz curled. With a faint squeak, she lurched forward, nails dragging across the floor. The Doctor's tongue followed, then went up higher to tease against Yaz's ass. Breathing in sharply, Yaz felt herself freeze, stuck between instinctively pulling away and pushing back. 

As though time had suddenly slowed, she felt the swipe of the Doctor's tongue against her hole. Flat, hot, _wet_ , the sensation of it rolling through her from the tip of her spine to the very base of her neck. Squirming, her cunt squeezing tight around the Doctor's fingers, Yaz gave a desperate and somewhat pathetic mewl. 

She'd never been touched there before. Oh, sure, she'd had one or two boyfriends accidentally press their dicks against it in the middle of sex (an accident or an 'accident'?), but nothing more than that. It felt wrong and so very private, yet the Doctor, as she had so readily admitted, had only a hazy idea of human boundaries. Maybe things were different in the three hundredth century. 

But no matter how wrong or how private Yaz found it, she wasn't pulling away. The Doctor's tongue was probing, her fingers were still deep in her cunt, and Yaz was loathe to move away just yet. Her face burrowed into the crook of her elbow and she squirmed, rocking back and forth slightly. Every swipe of the Doctor's tongue sent a wave of her tingles through her, every thought melting away as she squirmed and batted her feet along the ground. 

The Doctor's fingers slipped from her. The slid up, slick and warm from Yaz's body, and pressed against her hole as the Doctor lifted her head and took a breath. 

'Doctor?' 

'Mm?' 

The tips of her fingers were pressing against her hole. Curling her toes, Yaz gave a throaty whine. She wanted to push back, she wanted to squirm away- she wanted the Doctor to make the decision for her. 

'S'kinda polite to ask first.' 

'Ask?' the Doctor repeated. Then, 'oh! I should ask if this is okay, shouldn't I? Is it? Is this okay?' 

Despite herself, Yaz wanted to laugh. Her brow, sweaty and with hair matted against her skin, fell to rest upon the back of her wrist. 

'Yaz?' 

'No one's ever done that befo- _ooh_ \- ' 

The Doctor's tongue was swiping over her hole again. _Fuck_. 

Her hips rolled, her toes curling as she found herself pressing back. The illicitness of it all had Yaz wanting more of it. The tip of the Doctor's finger had begun to press inside her, half an inch at most, but it felt so much bigger. Heat rushed through her, the arousal burning deep within and blooming through to the rest of her body. 

The Doctor's other hand had begun to smear across her cunt, her thumb pressed against her clit. All the while, the Doctor licked at her, her tongue teasing alongside her finger, over and over as Yaz writhed. She could hear herself, the loud moaning as she pushed back, wanting more, _more_ , of the Doctor's tongue and fingers. 

'Quiet. _Shh_. The snow'll hear.' 

'I don't care about the bloody snow!' 

'Oh, now you're just being mean.' 

The Doctor didn't seem to mind all that much, though, if the laughter in her voice was anything to go by. But the laughter soon subsided and the Doctor had her tongue back inside, several fingers still in her cunt with a thumb to a clit, and another digit pressing into her ass. Yaz, partly desperate to acquiesce to the Doctor's wishes about remaining at least a little quiet, sunk her teeth down into upper arm, trying to muffle herself just a little. 

There was no running from her orgasm. It hit her hard, the Doctor's cold nose still pressed against her skin, her tongue running over her hole and her fingers filling her up deep inside. She clenched tightly around the Doctor, crying out into her arm as she kicked and squirmed. One of the blankets had fallen completely off her, but the coat still remained tossed over her head, enveloping her in the Doctor's scent. 

She ought to return the favour. She knew that. Yaz liked to reciprocate, and she was good at it. But it felt like everything had been completely drained from her. Her body felt heavy, her arms collapsing as she dropped to the ground. Even the weight of the Doctor's head, laying upon the small of her back, felt like something she couldn't move. 

'That was... _wow_.' 

And her eloquence had made its triumphant and oh-so-welcome return. 

'You stay there, Yaz.' 

She could feel the Doctor moving. The blankets fell away as she sat upright. Fingers were hooked around Yaz's briefs and hauled up, with an almost fond pat on her ass. 

This would be the point where she'd turn back over, grab at the Doctor and show her just how well she could respond in kind. She'd wow the Doctor with her sexual prowess, prove that the Doctor wasn't the only one with a talented tongue. 

None of that happened. All Yaz did was lay flat on her stomach, her eyes closed, and as a sharp whistle from the snow storm outside blew through the night air, she found herself falling clean back asleep. 

* 

She awoke only once more during the night. 

The blankets were being moved again, smoothed out and spread out more comfortably and evenly across her body. As Yaz turned, confused and still caught in dreams, she felt the Doctor's coat being lifted from her. Before she could fight whatever was happening, her head was lifted gently and the coat slid underneath as a better pillow. 

The Doctor kissed her cheek. Her nose, as cold as ever, pressed against Yaz's temple. A goodnight was whispered in her ear as the Doctor curled up behind her and pulled her in close against her chest. 

* 

The sky was completely clear. It was a rich, vibrant blue, not unlike the Earth sky but with more... _blue_. 

The ground was also clear of snow. It was as though it had never fallen throughout the night. Yaz had expected there to be at least small pockets of snow tucked around the corners of the bothy or under bushes but there was none to be seen. 

The Doctor hadn't acted any differently around Yaz, but that didn't mean much. Perhaps she was fluttering around a little more closely, and her hands had hovered a touch closer than they typically did, but it didn't mean all that much. Yaz wasn't offended. She knew the Doctor was naturally quite aloof. 

But, as the Doctor passed Yaz the rest of the bread and cheese for breakfast, she swore their hands touched a little more than what some would claim as strictly necessary. The Doctor had even allowed Yaz to swipe her thumb across the tip of her nose where several crumbs of molasses-sweet bread had clung after she took an over-ambitious bite. Her nose, Yaz noted, was back to being warm and not so frigidly cold as it had been the night before. 

And, as they walked back to Craig's farmhouse, it seemed like the Doctor stayed a little closer to Yaz than might normally happen. 

Further, Yaz could swear that the Doctor was trying to pretend like she wasn't trying to let their fingers touch as they started on the dirt path up to Craig's house. 

The blankets were crammed under the Doctor's arm. As she went to carry them up, a plump, red-cheeked woman came around the side of the house and waved them over. 

'Hullo! Craig said to expect you. I'm Preamble, his wife.' 

The Doctor pointedly looked over at Yaz and smiled. _Of course_. 

'He's in the paddock with the kids,' Preamble continued. 'Did you sleep well? The snow didn't bother you?' 

She spoke as animatedly as the Doctor, taking the blankets off her. Yaz waved politely from several steps away. The Doctor shook her head at Preamble's question and began a lengthy and winding chat on how the snow had been wonderful and how lucky they were to experience it at just the right time, to which Preamble agreed – and after which Yaz turned to find something, anything else of interest. 

Although Preamble offered both the Doctor and Yaz a meal and something warm to drink- 'it's no bother, really, all the milk is prepared by Craig and me!'- the Doctor said they had to make their leave. 

'We can stay,' Yaz said quietly as they started off the dirt road. 'We don't have to leave so quickly.' 

'All their kids will be coming in for lunch,' the Doctor replied. 'Might get a bit tight in there. Besides- big universe! So much! And you and I, we need to see it.' 

'But... what kids?' 

The Doctor took her hand. Not just held it or grabbed it to haul her long, but actually took hold of Yaz's hand. Their fingers threaded together and her thumb gently pressed into the back of Yaz's hand, holding it closer against her own. Their palms kissed, their wrists entwined lightly. Her fingers, like her nose, were nowhere near as cold as they had been the night before. 

'Was the snow really alive?' Yaz asked after a beat. 

With a mild look of surprise, the Doctor turned to eye her. 

'Of course,' she said. 'What makes you think it wasn't?' 

Yaz wondered just what role the snow had played the night before. She wanted to ask. But some mysteries, she had learnt, were better left undiscovered. 

The Doctor had just turned away when she gave a loud, delighted shriek. Yaz jolted as she was suddenly yanked to the fence that lined the paddock. 

The Doctor stopped and pointed out to the field. There, the cows Yaz had petted the day before were coming up towards the cottage. As one leapt over the fence, the door to the cottage swung open. Preamble stood by the door and gave each passing cow a kiss on top of the head. One by one, the cows started heading inside. 

The largest cow was at the back with a hat upon its head. Preamble took the hat off it and gave the cow a longer kiss upon the nose. When she stood, she pointed over to where Yaz and the Doctor stood. 

'Bye, Craig!' the Doctor called out as she waved. 'Bye, Premable!' 

Yaz stared, quietly dumbfounded. 

'I thought they were livestock. I scratched them behind the ears.' 

'Oh, Yaz,' the Doctor said, shaking her head and continuing on. 


End file.
